Puppet
by Raquel
Summary: A tale of Grindewald, Dumbledore, and WWII... plus A/N on WWII... pretty good, if you ask me, tho the ending is f'ed up beyond reasoning....please ignore the last few chapters....


*Note* the name 'Alejandra' is pronounced 'Ah-leh-han-dra'.

**Puppet**

Barbed wire fences. Tall smokestacks. The harsh German words. The person ran down a path, bare feet making no mark in the frozen ground. She glanced back over her shoulder. No alert yet. Keep running.

She pulled her headscarf tighter around her bony skull, trying to keep the wind from plucking it away. If she ran hard enough, she could get away from the prison. From the furnace. Look back. No alert yet. Keep running.

It wasn't her fault—in fact, she had helped with this place. It wasn't her fault they caught her. It was their fault they had put her in her prison, which she had designed to keep people in. A fitting punishment, they said. Did anyone deserve being forced to stand out in the snow, naked? To be raped—then shot? To be trampled by horses, brains spattering on the stone? No. Look back. No alert yet. Keep running.

She had helped him, and Hitler had not saved her. She had used every magical ability she had to help him, then she had been caught. Hitler had said he didn't know her; she should be put away in a 'work camp'. The camp where she worked against death, everyday. She knew that one day she would break free and start a new life. New hope in her hopeless life! Look back. No alert yet. Keep running!

The fence, electrified with enough power to kill. A grim look on her face as she looked both ways, wary of the guard. Then the snip of a small pair of garden shears, and a hole big enough for a child-sized woman. She slipped through, hearing the alarm go off. Run!

"_Halte!" _a voice called. When she didn't stop, the ground lurched under her feet and she fell. No amount of struggling to cause her body to rise. She was spent. Boots pounded behind her. Why wasn't he shooting? Why wasn't she dead?

"You aren't German," she accused the person as they stopped above her. She couldn't see his face, but his accent was obviously English.

"No." He placed his foot on her back. "Who are you?"

"POW3013." She gave him her number. It was tattooed on her left arm. Prisoner of War, 3,013th admitted.

"Your name?"

"Why do you care?" she asked bitterly. "We were told to forget our names."

"You haven't forgotten." He rolled her over with his foot. "Put your hands on your head." He was about twenty, with an unkempt brown beard and shaggy brown hair. His blue eyes were cold behind oval glasses. "Your name?"

"Chaya." She lied quickly. 

"Wrong answer." She cursed silently. She wasn't Jewish, she was a prisoner of war! "I'm looking for a 'Grindewald'. Do you know her?" he asked, scrutinizing her. "About five foot three, dark brown hair, gray eyes?"

Alejandra Grindewald set of into a fresh batch of mental curses. "Yes. She's number 3,621, lives in a different barrack. Only seen her a few times."

His boot pressed down on her chest. Alejandra gasped in pain. "I'm looking for you, Alejandra Grindewald, POW3013. I was told not to let you live." She sighed, feigning hopelessness, then grabbed his leg and wrenched it out from under him. Quickly biting his hand, she grasped a bit of wood. Now she had his weapon: a wand.

"First, a few bits of knowledge from you," Alejandra smiled wickedly, displaying teeth that had not been clean in some time. The man lay impassive. "First, who are you for?"

"England."

"Your name?"

"Albus Dumbledore." The blue eyes scraped against Alejandra's face, seeing the hollows of her cheekbones, her sunken gray eyes, and the chocolate brown stubble on her shorn head. He could have easily wrapped his hand around her shin and touched his fingers together. She was only skin, bone, and tendon. "Why are you in here?"

Her face was twisted with rage. She kicked him as hard as she could. "You know!" she whispered fiercely. "I was betrayed!" Albus bit his lip until it bled. Alejandra noticed this and smiled. "I was going to be rich and powerful, and everyone would bow to me," she smiled. "I would be the most powerful woman in the world."

"Did you think Hitler would share the power?" her prisoner whispered. She slammed her foot into his side again. "Did you?"

She kicked him again and again like a spoiled child. "Why should I tell you?" she hissed at Albus. "You're only fed the nasty side of my world, why shouldn't you listen to the wonderful part?"

"Alejandra," he said, with the finality of a parent. "Listen to me."

"No."

"If I don't kill you, they will. With guns. With gas." He locked eyes with her and saw her for what she was—eighteen, powerful, and used. Used, then thrown away. Like a child's plaything. "All I have to do is yell."

"You'll be just as dead as I." Alejandra whispered, fear in her gray eyes.

It happened in a second. Albus's hand flashed up and grabbed her wrist, directing the wand away. She held it, but he controlled her. Alejandra was no weakling, but six month of starvation had taken it's toll. Albus controlled her, just as Hitler once had. She spat at him.

"Curse you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Why won't you let me go?" she asked him, pleading. "I never meant any harm."

"Liar."

Alejandra bit her lip. "I never meant all this death. All I wanted was power."

"You had it. You were the most powerful woman in the world—for a week. Maybe two." Again they locked eyes. "Alejandra, this power doesn't last."

"It would have!"

"No, it wouldn't have. Someone would have killed you. Probably Hitler."

"He needed me!" she said, almost whining. "I did everything for him!" She was pleading with the truth, begging it to change it's mind. "He needed me!" she repeated.

"Apparently he doesn't any more."

Albus stared Alejandra down. Her gray eyes were furious—so angry and yet so sad. She looked into his eyes and saw no quarter. No surrender. It was to the death.

And Alejandra did not want to die.

Thwack! A fist hit the spectacles and they flew off into the night, lenses shattered. Albus grasped the wand with both hands, but it still was directed at himself. Alejandra Grindewald smiled and whispered two words—"_Avada Kedavra_"—and Albus Dumbledore push away from himself with all his might.

A gasp, the whoosh of a last breath, and Alejandra Grindewald fell on top of Albus, her gray eyes wide and staring in her pale, thin face. 

§§§

Cornilius Fudge cleared his throat. "Dumbledore, good man, tell me what you think of this article. Very well written, shows you very well." Albus pulled the Daily Prophet across the table.

****

Grindewald Killed

Last night, at approximately 1 am, A. Grindewald was killed by Albus Dumbledore while to escape a prison. Grindewald is a wizard who has admittedly been helping Adolf Hitler try to take over the world. He was taken to prison camp six month ago when captured by the Allied Forces (he was traded back to Hitler in exchange for British spies). Albus Dumbledore, a twenty-one year old wizard, bravely risked his own life by posing as a Nazi to apprehend Grindewald.

Albus stopped reading. "Cornilius, my dear fellow, I see only one problem with this article. Grindewald is a she. Her name is Alejandra Grindewald."

Cornilius shifted in his chair. "Nobody knows that."

"I do."

"Well, it's too late." The fat man smiled benignly. "Already hit the owls, everyone will know by tomorrow."

Albus Dumbledore sighed. History could never be recorded properly with people like Cornilius Fudge around.

§§§

Author's Note: Okay, first of all, I would like to discuss my view on WWII. This is a subject no one can ever agree on, and probably never will.

I'm from a German background. I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and any talk about Hitler's stereotypical Aryan race makes me uncomfortable (people tend to give me dirty looks because they can't possibly fathom that everybody who fits under that stereotype isn't evil). One thing that gets under my skin is when people say 'Oh yea, the Germans were slaughtering everyone who wasn't Aryan.' Not Germans, Nazis. Two completely different things. It's like mixing up Catholics and Muslims. No offense to those who follow those religons.

I believe Hitler was a madman who had a way with persuasion, and the Germans were desperate. They were burning their money, people. That's how bad their economy was. They needed a leader. Hitler showed up, and bam, we've got ourselves some hope. Germany improved under Hitler. Unfortunately, he took his power too far.

Point of view is the key here. German schoolbooks probably show a much gentler version of Hitler, as well as what he did that was positive for Germany. Think it's biased? Take a look at English schoolbooks. Henry VIII, for example: he was a disgusting man. He was very fat, had an infection in his legs, he smelled bad, he changed wives about as often as he changed his underwear. Nasty guy. But look who he had for a daughter! Good Queen Bess. (I'm not saying Virgin Queen because I seriously doubt that) Every cloud has a silver lining.

I have an opinion, I will listen to yours. I have every right to decide for myself if I think you're an idiot or not. You have the same right. Review.

-Glitter


End file.
